And war, Master?
Upon hearing these words, the old man smiled. Beside him was a bowl of nuts. He chose one and held it up. War, he said, is the breaking of the shell. Then, between mottled hands that were as strong as they were gentle, he cracked the nut and pried it open to reveal the beauty inside. He gave half to his pupil and put the other half in his mouth. Together they ate the nut. And that, said the old man, is the end of war.
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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet